Winnie the Pooh and the Sex Vampires
by DoomsdayJesus
Summary: A dark night for Winnie the Pooh.
1. A Dark Night

Winnie the Pooh was standing in the 100yard woods waiting for his friend Christopher Robin. The lights above him blinked and the moon was shining. Full as usual. It had been ever since the invasion of sex vampires.  
Then he saw something strange. It was scary in a sort of odd, shiny way. It was definately not a heffalump. It was a sex vampire. Winnie the pooh froze in terror. This wasn't the way he had expected to lose his virginity.  
The sex vampire landed before Winnie and stared him right into his eyes for then to speak;  
"Let me introduce myself." the vampire spoke in a calm, yet distant voice. He was glistening with innuendo and syphillis.  
"I am Edward Cullen and I am going to rape you 'till the cows come home"  
Winnie the Pooh noticed that the fear was suddenly replaced by perplexion.  
"Do you know when they are going to come home?" He asked, stuttering.  
Edward's grin was now stretching to the point of explosion danger.  
"Late enough." He said, unzipping his trousers. 


	2. Interlude 1

It is time to reply to some reviews publicly. For this I interrupt the story of WTP&SV.

FutureCullen97 wrote:  
"This story 1. Prooves that you have NO life 2. You have a sick, sick mind 3. You have entierly too muck time to think 4. I NEVER want to meet you, and feel bad for those who do"

To this my answer is the following:  
Seeing as you have de-constructed your argument to four points I see it as only common courtesy to reply in a similar fashion.  
First to address your first point. Namely; "1. Prooves that you have NO life" (I wont be addressing 'This story' nor its lack of a subsequent colon) .  
Apart from the misspelling of the verb 'to prove' there are rather few mistakes in this statement. Seeing as I must be alive to write anything (as far as I have gathered the dead are very quiet on that frontier). Therefore, I must assume that you intended a different meaning than the literal one. My alternatives are thus:  
- You mean "You have no social life/love life/sex life/other metaphor for social interaction."  
If this is what you mean you are horribly mistaken. I can see how someone who is obsessed with mary-sue fantasies such as Stephanie Meyer's filth, could project their own loneliness onto those that seem different to them. That is only natural, when you have no friends that exist outside fiction. It is also natural for someone of this nature to attack someone who makes fun of fiction. Essentially through my satire I am, through your eyes, attacking the basis of your fantasy world. The attack you reply with is similar to other followers of fictional characters such as Jesus, Mohammed or Vishnu and like them you can't take a joke.  
- You actually mean "I am a moron with no concept of language, I merely picked letters from a hat and I posted the result on a random web site. Ha ha, I'm so random." This seems all the more unlikely, but if you don't reply, or reply without any sense of coherency I will acknowledge it as truth nonetheless. - You meant "You have a Norwegian life."  
Yes, yes I do. What a hilariously tautological sentence. This is a sentence. We are such a barrel of laughs.  
Your second statement makes even less sense. "2. You have a sick, sick mind."  
This makes no sense what so ever, a mind is an abstract concept. Abstract concepts don't catch diseases. You will never find any of the following:  
- Democracy with a slight cough.  
- Entropy which suffers from leukemia.  
- Beauty with a skin rash.  
Thus, we must again see if you could have meant something else.  
- "You have a sick, sick brain."  
If you are right, I will be beyond impressed. I had no idea medical tests were administered on fan fiction sites. That is so amazing. I'd really love to know how you did that.  
- "You have a slick, slick mind."  
Why, thank you. I am bewildered as to how you could come up with such knowledge as those it would require to base an opinion on. Please do share.  
I am very interested to hear which of the alternatives is correct.  
Your third statement is an amazing work of surrelism. "3. You have entierly too muck time to think."  
I have no idea what it means. Truly dadaistic.  
Your final statement is strange, as it has nothing to do with the story what so ever. Then again none of the previous statements did either. I will nonetheless indulge you with your wish. I have no particular intention of meeting you. 


	3. Interlude 2 and Chapter 2: The Morn

The Real Carlyle Cullen 2009-09-27 . chapter 2 dude shut the ** up,your taking a character that we all grew up knowing as a sweet little yellow bear that loves honey AND YOUR TURNING HIM INTO A ** PERVERT. And your also disgracing Stephanie Meyer for incorporating her characters into your sick disgusting should be ashamed of yourself, what the hell did your parents do to you?? FutureCullen97 was right YOU HAVE NO LIFE!  
My reply:  
Stephanie Meyer's filth has no dignity. It is written like wet papier maché. The content is abomanble. The story is pointless and the language is vile. As for what my parents did for me to end us as I did, here is what they answered:  
My mother: "Haha, we gave you handjobs whilst reading fairy tailes, every single night."  
My step-father: "I'm not quite sure."  
My father was not avaliable for any comment, I'm afraid.  
I can assure you that I do not have a "NO LIFE", although Im not quite sure what it implies. I must also object to the comment that I have turned WTP into a pervert. In my story he is certainly a victim, not a pervert. Naive, yes, ignorant, by far, but a pervert, not in the least.  
You must understand that the contrast with the expectations of WTP as a character and the 'perversion' of the plot, is what makes this story funny. I plant an expectation and violate it. That is what humour consists of.

We Do It Cuz We Kishin 2009-08-10 . chapter 1 Dear God, you have no life.  
Me:  
I'm not God. I would never imply such a preposterous concept. I am almost compeltely sure that I exist.

TheVanquishedandQueen 2009-07-18 . chapter 1 Okay, first of all,  
WTF means what the *insert curse word here.  
And that was exactly what I was thinking when I read this drabble.  
It's not funny, dude.  
Just no.  
I'm speaking for the fanbase and the antis when I say.  
You're insane for writing this.  
Seriously, why would you even THINK of this!  
I am a anti and proud, but by what I've seen of Edward, he only does this to Bella. X) Okay, no, he wouldn't even to her, but, Winnie is just no. Okay.  
Don't try to do this. Ever again. DX By the way, it's 100 acre wood. Not yard. But, I'd say you're not welcome in either fandom anymore for this crime.  
~ The Vanquished & Queen Me:  
Ok. I respect your right to think exactly what you like. I''m not interested in your fandom. I couldn't care less. As to why I thought of it, the why question is diminshed when one understands the how question.

A quick continuation of the story:  
Winnie the Pooh woke up and looked towards his grandfather clock that he had conveniently bought for a reasonable price at eBay. It read thrity-five past seven. He assumed he had got up early, but quickly noticed the absense of any light. He muttered some blasphemic remarks and stumbeled shakily towards the cabinet marked 'HUNNY' in large, friendly letters. He opened it with the left paw whilst scratching his rear-end with the right. This terrible head-ache knew only one cure. His fix. His cure. His remedy. His repair.  
He blearily unscrewed the jar as he sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. More reports of attacks obviously. No surprises there. As he smelled the contents of the jar, he readied the mirror on pure instinct. He had done this so many timed, he didn't need thought to do it. Hardly even reaction. He tipped the jar slowly and made a long line of the 'HUNNY'. Soon he would be just fine.  
The anticipation of the delicious treat to come almost made him shake more. He managed to supress it. He needed this too much to spill any. As his tongue slowly slid across the smooth surface of the glass he could smell the lovely cure, already working. When the surface of the remedy hit his taste buds there was an explosion of adrenaline and endorphins in his blood-stream. This was it. His ultimate experience. This is what he lived for.  
As his mind slid slightly out of sync with reality he thought; "My bum hurt." 


End file.
